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“Come on.” He tugged at her, forcing her away from the man whose death had already been promised the second she’d mentioned he had tortured her. “We’ve got to run, and you’ve already cut yourself.” Blood dripped from her dirty toes to splash against the glass shards, the threadbare carpets, and the gunman’s skin.
She wrapped her arms around Alexei’s neck, and he hugged her close for a second to savor what he might have had if he’d been born a better man. Then, he aimed his 9mm with the high-capacity mag and shot the human. They couldn’t risk anyone coming after them. Shoot now, and he wouldn’t regret later. Hopefully, the asshole wouldn’t bleed out immediately and might suffer for a fraction of the time he’d tormented Joelle.
“Why?” she asked.
“He hurt you.”
If she’d expected a hero, a knight in shiny, undamaged armor to come rescue her, she’d gotten the villain instead. He wouldn’t apologize for who he was.
She stayed quiet as they fought their way out of the compound, but she held on to him and didn’t pull away. He would take the small victories at this point. There’d be no need for her to know she had staggered him with a look, with a word. Not when her life had already been so hard.
If she turned out to be his mate, then who he was, the role he played, the jobs he did—they would all get her killed if he kept her. He would be nothing more than the darkness who would drag the light out of Joelle, and he couldn’t do that to her.
“Where’s the chopper?” he asked Diego as they pushed out of the compound toward the designated meeting spot that skirted the borders of his father’s territory.
“Be here any minute.” The sniper covered them from the rear, but no more gunshots meant they’d either eliminated the humans or sent those with survival instincts into hiding.
Tugging Joelle closer, he wished he had a first aid kit to wipe away the blood on her skin, disinfect those cuts, check for glass. He cut off the line of thoughts. Taking care of his potential mate would be a privilege and an honor, but a comfort he couldn’t afford.
The ground rumbled, the roar of fast-approaching armored vehicles one he’d dreaded more than taking on whatever humans this organization—the Order—could throw at him. No, this small army had a winged demon hybrid leading it.Yulia. The daughter of his father’s rival. Why couldn’t she have given them a few more minutes to escape without turning everything into a territory dispute?
He glanced at Joelle, keeping his voice level no matter how furious he was to have his last few moments with her cut short. “Come on, angel. Get down.” She slid off him and stood staring. The cold air bit into his skin. Good, it might keep him centered on the fight and not on the last time he would see her. “Go with Diego.”
She didn’t move. “I’m not leaving you.”
Thethump, thumpof the approaching chopper’s blades came from behind, the wind forcing Yulia back, but not for long.
He wouldn’t argue with his likely mate, not when this would be their goodbye. “Diego, get Joelle out of here. Keep her safe, or I’ll tear your heart out. Don’t wait for me.” And for powers’ sake, don’t let her see what he was about to become. He didn’t flinch as the snow kicked up by the chopper slapped his cheeks, didn’t look away until the sniper had his angel in a crouch running for their ride.
He didn’t want to tell her, to show her this truth of who he really was. If she saw his wings, she’d assumed they were monstrous, terrible, awful things that proved his demon blood. Everyone else outside his kind thought that. Normally, he didn’t care, but he couldn’t stand to see that same fear, that revulsion inhergaze. She’d already watched him kill a man, and he would carry the memory of her simple question—why—with him forever to prove how he couldn’t be good enough for her. He would simply walk away, would stop looking for a girl he’d already lost years ago.
Unfurling his massive wings that would make Yulia’s seem tiny in comparison, he allowed his demon horns to curl from his temples and pushed off the ground to fight until maybe he could forget Joelle’s face.
ChapterThree
Wings. The handsome man who’d rescued her, who’d stared at her as if she might be everything good and right with the world?Alexei. He had gorgeous wings that stretched wide and glorious, a heroic knight who defended her by taking to the sky with powerful black webbing between sharp claws.
Did other magic-born have wings like his? She didn’t think so, but oh, how she wanted some for herself. Moving like the bats in flight she had studied in a barn where she’d once been kept, he maneuvered with speed and grace for such a large man.
Her other rescuer, the one Alexei had threatened if she came to any harm, didn’t unleash wings and chase him toward the clouds. No, he waited here with her, pelted by snow churned by gusts from the helicopter’s blades. Diego must be grounded, the same as she was. Alexei had to be unique to have such fierce wings and a fighting spirit that let him fly toward the battle rather than away from it.
True, she hadn’t met many supernaturals outside those poor mangled souls who’d been brought to her for temporary healing. Joelle hadn’t spoken with someone magical other than her brother Josh in years. No magic studies had been allowed. Instead, she’d had to endure hours of lectures about the evil in her blood.
She hadn’t believed those lies. When he could, her brother protected her, did awful things to keep her safe. He loved her, and love didn’t come from evil. Hatred—the kind Noxx had for supernaturals—did. She didn’t need an education beyond common sense to know that simple truth.
Who might a man like Alexei love? Who else would he wrap in his clothes to keep warm? Or carry through a prison so she wouldn’t cut her feet? No one else had taken such care with her…except the memory of a teenaged boy in Moscow defending her from bullies and sharing his pastries haunted her. She pushed it away because she couldn’t compare the rest of the world to her memory of a nameless girlhood crush.
In the years she’d been imprisoned by the Order, she’d seen all kinds of emotions filling people’s eyes—fear, loathing, lust, pity, apathy. Yet his gaze held something else, a longing and sadness that called to her own. When he looked at her, he’d reallyseenher. When he held her, she’d felt safe. The feeling pulled at her, a slow tug that unraveled the eternal worry knotted in her chest.
“Into the chopper,” Diego yelled above the thunderousthwap, thwap, thwapof the helicopter’s spinning blade. He pushed her ahead of him as if afraid she might be snatched from his grasp. Whether he was motivated by Alexei’s death threat or any promises he’d made to Josh, she didn’t know, but she crouched and ran for escape.
She managed not to flinch when Diego fastened her into a harness and heavy helmet with a swinging microphone, swallowing her instinctive need to pull away to protect herself. She wouldn’t let fear unravel this rescue. Instead, she looked around him to find her winged savior with the gruff voice and grumpy disposition. Brushing her hands together, she tried to memorize the sizzle of energy that’d buzzed beneath her skin where Alexei had touched her.
“Let’s go,” Diego called to the pilot, jabbing his finger toward the roof. They took to the air so fast that her stomach lurched and spun to match the whirling of the rotor blade above. “Don’t look back,” he told her. “He’s a demon prince, not anyone’s definition of a nice guy. While he might be out there holding off his ex for us, he’s not someone you want to befriend—if he even has friends. He hates us witches.”
“I could be part witch. Or not,” she admitted. “I don’t actually know.”
Alexei rose high in the air to face a light-skinned woman with much smaller wings.His ex, Diego had called her. Joelle had heard the gossip between guards. Demon hybrids had predestined loves to whom they would devote themselves for eternity. Fated mates, they’d called them. Of course, the humans had spoken of this obsession with disgust, lumping the hybrids with shifters, saying they were no better than animals.
